


Don't Touch That Dial!

by CaffieneKitty



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Harper's Island, Les Schtroumpfs | The Smurfs, Supernatural, TV Commercials
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comment Fic, Crack, Crossover, Episode: s05e08 Changing Channels, Gen, Humor, Missing Scene, The show started it, blame the Trickster, universe hopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-08
Updated: 2009-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffieneKitty/pseuds/CaffieneKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More TV and Media worlds Dean and Sam might have crossed into when the Trickster had them in Changing Channels. </p><p>Four comment fics written for clex_monkie89's <a href="http://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com/742063.html">5.08-related comment-fic meme</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Touch That Dial!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Computer technical assertions made in this may bear no relation to actual Mac or PC capabilities or deficiencies. I apologize for any canon errors in the crossover 'verses.
> 
> _Originally posted on Livejournal November 8th, 2009_

**Startup Sound**  
(Prompt: Sam and Dean are trapped in a Mac vs PC commercial)

The room was white. Freaking solid, ongoing, forever, white. The only thing besides Dean in the room was Sam. He stood beside Dean, wearing something sort of normal, if somewhat geekier.

Dean looked down at himself. Suit. And a little pudgy.

"What the hell show is this Sam?"

Sam grimaced. "It's not a show, it's another ad."

Dean turned around, looking at the endless white room. "An ad for what? White paint?"

"Let's get this over with." Sam cleared his throat. "Hi. I'm... I'm a Mac."

Dean lowered his chin and stared at Sam. "No way."

"Come on Dean. It's gotta be better than that herpes thing."

Dean sighed. "And I'm a PC."

"What's wrong PC?"

"Damned if I know." Dean crossed his arms.

Sam glared.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why I'm just fine, Mac!" He said with great cheer. "Everything's just fine! I'm the best operating system in the world! Why would anything beeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-"

Dean's face went blank and he fell over backwards with a puff of smoke.

When he blinked his eyes open again to a loud digitized _Doodle-te-doo! Waaaaaa..._ sound, he saw Sam hovering over him.

"Are you all right, De- uh, PC?"

Dean got to his feet. "I'm fine, I juuuuuuuuu-" And over he went again with a thud.

 _Doodle-te-doo! Waaaaaa..._ Sam was kneeling beside Dean this time.

"Dude, play your damn role or we're never getting out of here!"

"I am, Dean. Mac is a nice guy who cares and stuff." Sam held out a hand.

Dean swatted it away. Sam looked hurt.

" _Mac_ is a nice guy. _PC_ is a douche. These _are_ Mac commercials, Sam." Dean got to his feet again and pasted on his biggest, fakest smile. "I'm just fine, this is a perfectly nooooooo-" *thud*

_Doodle-te-doo! Waaaaaa..._

"All part of the stabilization processssssssss-" *thud*

_Doodle-te-doo! Waaaaaa..._

"Son of a biiiiiiiiii-" *thud*

_Doodle-te-doo! Waaaaaa..._

"Play the role, Dean!"

"Shove it, Saaaaaaaa-" *thud*

_Doodle-te-doo! Waaaaaa..._

"Okay, fine!" Dean said, clambering to his feet and dusting his suit off. "So I need to reboot a lot! It's not my fault! I'm an advanced computer system and I shouldn't have to work with out-dated drivers!"

"So every company that makes computer peripherals needs to update all their drivers just because you don't want to work with old things?"

"Well of course, they always do when there's a new system. And don't tell me Mac users don't need to get new drivers when you upgrade."

"Actually, they don't. I find them for them."

"Well, I'm too advanced to go looking foooooooooooo-" *thud*

_Doodle-te-doo! Waaaaaa..._

When Dean opened his eyes next, the room wasn't white.

(end)

_Reference for the unafflicted:[Vista Startup Sound](http://annanta.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/audios/Windows-Startup-Sounds/Windows-Vista.mp3)_

 

\- - -

**Fullmetal Winchesters**  
(Prompt: Sam and Dean are trapped in Fullmetal Alchemist)

Blue sky. Puffy white clouds. Bright green rolling hills. Brown roads. Most of the TV shows the Trickster had sent them into were bright, but this was beyond bright. This was... animated.

"Crap." Dean looked at himself, past the big stupid pointy blond bangs that obscured his peripheral vision. White gloves, red robes, and he didn't want to look but he was pretty sure his arm and leg were made of metal. His hair pulled at his scalp at the back and even more than not wanting to know if his limbs were made of metal, Dean did not want to know if his hair was in a pony-tail. Or something worse.

"Sam? Do you have any idea what show this is?" said Dean. Then looked behind him. No Sam. _Now what?_ "SAM?" Dean shouted.

A loud metallic clonging approached, vibrating the ground. Dean spun around to see an eight foot tall guy in armor and something like a loincloth stomping over a hill towards him.

Fighting the sudden bizarre urge to clap his hands together, Dean took a step backwards and wished he had a gun, something with armor-piercing rounds.

"Dean! It's me!" the armored guy shouted hollowly in Sam's voice while waving an arm over his helmeted head.

"Sam, what the hell?" Dean tucked his bangs behind his ears and walked up to meet Sam on the road, ignoring the weird feeling/non-feelings he was getting from his leg and arm and instead frowning at the oddly hollow sound of Sam's footsteps.

"I dunno Dean. It looks kind of like Anime."

"Yeah, I got that the place is animated."

"No, _Anime_. Japanese animation." Sam gestured towards Dean. "I mean the big eyes and things. There was a club at the dorm in first year. This looks like one of the things they had on."

Dean looked at his reflection in the chestplate of Sam's armor. Big eyes, stupid pointy emo hair and- oh god. A _braid_. He looked up, and up some more at Sam. "Okay, so the Trickster likes Japanese things. Maybe this one won't hit either of us in the junk."

Sam's enormous metal feet shifted. "I don't think I have to worry about that."

Dean snorted. "Well, yeah. You get a full suit of armor, I get stupid hair and a bathrobe."

"Yeah. Armor. I get armor." Sam coughed hollowly.

"You could at least take off the freaking helmet."

"Noooo, I couldn't."

"Why?" _Japanese animation._ Dean grinned. "Sammy... are you a giant robot?"

"Not exactly, but..." he sighed. "Fine." Sam reached up and took the helmet off. And had no head.

"What the- Sammy!?" Dean jumped up, grabbing the open neck of the armor, pulling himself up. He peered down into the armor expecting to see Sam further down in, like a sports mascot where the person's head only came up to the mascot suit's chest. The suit of armor was totally empty except for a symbol on the inside that he didn't recognize but knew he shouldn't touch.

"I'm the armor, Dean." Sam's voice echoed around inside the hollow armor. "This is me."

All thoughts of his own metal arm and leg disappeared. Dean swallowed a sick feeling. "Sam... are you a ghost?"

"Something like that, I think."

"Are you okay?"

"I feel fine, just..." The armor shrugged slightly. "Non-biological."

Dean gritted his teeth. _I'm gonna kill the frigging Trickster twice for this. A hundred times._ He dropped to the ground and took a step back to look up at Sam. "We have to get out of here. You need to get back to normal."

"To do that we have to figure out what 'playing our role' means here. I didn't really watch much of it at the dorms, but they took over the TV room on Tuesday nights so I saw some." Sam's helmet turned, looking at the surrounding area. "It seems familiar though."

Dean watched the helmet swiveling around under Sam's arm. "Uh. Could you put your head on if you're going to look around. That's really disturbing."

"Sorry," said Sam, putting the helmet back on. "Look at the bright side, at least I don't have stupid hair."

Dean smirked. "Hate to break it to you, but you always have stupid hair, Sammy. Not always quite that freakishly tall, though."

Sam's helmet tilted to the side. "I didn't want to say anything, Dean, but you are kind of... short."

Suddenly Dean found himself running around in a circle, flailing his fists in the air and babbling high-speed about insignificant small things and feeling like his head might literally explode.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that!" shouted Sam over Dean's rapid-fire babble.

Dean stopped in front of Sam, panting. "What the hell was that!?"

Sam nodded. "Oh yeah. I remember this one now."

"Okay, so what do we do?"

"I think you just did it."

And just like that, they were somewhere else.

(end)

\- - -

**(No Title)**  
(Prompt: Sam and Dean are trapped on [Harper's Island](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harper's_Island), a mini-series that had a lot of cast crossovers with Supernatural.)

"Okay, so, Bobby's the Sheriff, Ron's not dead and is trying to start a beer company-" Dean raised his open bottle of not-that-bad-actually micro-brew beer, "-with money he's gonna steal off a dead guy but maybe hasn't yet, Ruby's marrying the only guy here who's more of a dork than you, Daniel Elkins is the priest who's going to marry them, and is also not dead, except no one knows where he is right now so maybe he _is_ dead, and the creepy little girl is probably not evil, but we don't know for sure because you didn't watch the whole show, just random bits."

Sam nodded. "Right."

"And there's either a psycho or a spirit or something going around randomly whacking people?"

"Yep."

"And everyone's sticking around here why?"

"Because they haven't noticed yet. Or it hasn't started yet." Sam shrugged. "I don't know."

"Great. So what you're saying is almost all of these people are going to die bloody and we can't do anything to help any of them."

"Not if we're playing the roles the Trickster assigned us."

Dean clenched his jaw and looked around the room full of people.

"They aren't real people, Dean. The Trickster made them up."

"If either of us turns out to be the murderer, Sam, I'm not doing it." Dean glared into his beer bottle. "I don't care if they're fake people. I'm not murdering anyone for that sick, twisted bastard."

"Odds are neither of us is the murderer, Dean. Odds are we're just victims."

"Yeah, well, I'm not gonna play that role too happily either." Dean drained the dregs of his beer.

Sam huffed. "Maybe we can play whatever our roles are and get out of here before either situation comes up."

"Fine. Whatever. So who are we?"

"No idea."

"Really," Dean said flatly, turning to Sam.

"I don't know who half of these people are, Dean. I looked it up on Wikipedia after the show finished and I still couldn't tell who was who. There was a grid and everything."

"Great. That's just great. How are we supposed to play our freaking roles if we don't know who we are, Sam?"

"I'm trying to take notes, alright? Just keep drinking and stay close to the group; maybe someone'll call us by name."

Dean looked sideways at Sam. "And you'll be able to figure out what we're supposed to do from that?"

"Well... no," admitted Sam.

"So just keep drinking?"

"Keep drinking."

Dean cracked the lid off another bottle of micro-brew. "Sounds like a plan to me."

(end)

\- - -

 

**Just Smurfy.**  


(Prompt: Sam and Dean are trapped on 'The Smurfs')

"Dean," Said Sam, pushing up the thick glasses with one disturbingly blue finger. "You really shouldn't eat those."

"Why the smurf not?" Dean stuffed another wedge of smurfberry pie into his mouth. "I'm Greedy Smurf. I'm playing my smurfing role here."

"The sheer volume of pie you've eaten is about ten times your current total mass." Sam pointed at the teetering pile of empty pie plates. "You're going to explode."

"See? You sound exactly like you should for your role there, Brainy Smurf." Dean leaned back against a mushroom and belched. "Drop a few 'smurf'-bombs into your dialog and we'll be out of here in no time."

Sam glared. "You still shouldn't eat that much. It's physically impossible."

"We're cartoons, Sam. Physically impossible is what cartoons are made for. Besides, have you _tried_ smurfberry pie? It's like smurfing crack."

Sam sighed and sat down next to Dean. "Smurf it."

"There you go! How hard was that?" Dean slapped Sam on the back, leaving a slight smurfberry-colored smear.

"Brainy Smurf! Brainy Smurf!" called a voice even higher pitched than the average Smurf.

"And helloooo Smurfette!" Dean stood up, grinning.

Sam sighed again and stood. "What can I d- _smurf_ for you, Smurfette?"

The blonde-haired blue girl-smurf wrung her hands. "Oh Brainy Smurf! I can't find Papa Smurf anywhere! I smurfed you'd know what to smurf!"

"What to, uh, smurf about what?"

"Azreal is coming!"

Dean stepped forward, raising his smurfberry-stained hands and frowning. "Hold the smurf on. _Azazel?_ We smurfed that smurfing yellow-eyed smurf-smurfer! How the smurf is he still smurfing around!?"

Smurfette looked scandalized.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Not Azazel, Dean, _Azreal_. Gargamel's cat."

"Oh. Wait, a cat? What's so bad about-"

A feline snarl carried through the forest. Between the bushes a mangy twitching tail that looked about as tall as a four-storey building approached.

"Oh, _smurf._ "

(end)


End file.
